


With Friends Like These

by hiddenhibernian



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, F/M, Humor, Ministry of Magic Ball (Harry Potter), Post-Hogwarts, Post-War, Romance, Scheming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:13:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28298067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiddenhibernian/pseuds/hiddenhibernian
Summary: A lot of people are keen on Severus and Hermione attending the Ministry Christmas Ball. What could they possibly be up to, and how many galleons are riding on the outcome?
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
Comments: 3
Kudos: 90





	With Friends Like These

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written for the tenth edition of HoggyWarty Xmas on LiveJournal, for Rayvyn2k.

“I'd really like you to come, you know.”

There was silence, followed by the sound of pages turning. It had a meaty quality to it, suggesting thick parchment and centuries-old binding.

“It's always been known as the party of the year,” the speaker tried again.

Hermione snorted. “I highly doubt that.”

“For the last fifteen years, anyway. Come on, Hermione.” Wheedling her was usually a sign he was getting desperate. One of the benefits of no longer being in a relationship with Ron was that a flat no was always an option.

This was too intriguing to pass up, however.

She carefully put her book down on a side table and turned her full attention to him. “Why do you care if I go or not? You can just go with your Auror mates.”

“It's a ball, Hermione. You like balls. It might cheer you up.” He looked delighted with himself, like a Crup latching on to a bone.

“First of all, I don't think my ex is supposed to be the one proffering ideas to cheer me up after we've broken up. Secondly, going to a ball with him isn't exactly in the spirit of the thing, is it?”

Ron deflated somewhat but didn't give up. “When did you ever do things the way they're supposed to be done? When did we, for that matter?”

“Exactly. I don't need someone to cheer me up, and as for you thinking a ball is the best way to do that –“

“You love balls!” Ron interjected.

She sighed. “Would this be based on our experiences at the Yule Ball, by any chance? When I was fifteen? Thus neatly confirming that I was right about our relationship being based on who we used to be, not who we are now?”

“Or possibly because you keep using words like 'thus' in normal conversation,” Ron muttered, but he was smiling.

* * *

When she closed the door behind him some hours later, Hermione was happier than she had been for a long time. They were finally back to being friends again – effortlessly, rather than the horribly self-conscious way it had been right after the break-up.

All was well, finally.

* * *

She wouldn't have been so happy if she had seen the note Ron scribbled to Harry as soon as he got back to his apartment.

It didn't work. We'd better apply the thumbscrews or she'll spoil the whole thing. Pint on Thursday?

* * *

“What about Friday the 13th? Severus and I are both busy then, so if Filius doesn't mind –“

Severus frowned, staring at the blank page in his calendar. “What do you mean I'm busy?”

“It's the Ministry Christmas ball, they're holding it on a Friday this year. Somebody in the Department of Mysteries proved productivity on the day after plummeted by 84%, so Kingsley moved it to the end of the working week. The end for them, that is,” Minerva sniffed.

The reason this meeting was being held in the first place was to ensure adequate staffing levels to keep the students from blowing up themselves or others over the Christmas period, so her expression of scorn was shared around the table.

Admittedly mostly by Severus, but even Filius could display uncharacteristic bile when confronted with people lamenting teachers' long holidays.

Pomona chirped in: ”I hear the whole department is shunned now. Saul Croaker told me he doesn't dare set his foot in the canteen, so they're living off tea and biscuits from the tea trolley.”

“So that's that weekend accounted for. Now, Filius has a lecture in Rome the following week –“

* * *

“What do you mean by commandeering my weekend schedule?” He was stalking down the corridors, following Minerva to her quarters.

She seemed unperturbed. “I thought you complained when you were on duty – if you are switching to complaining about being let off I'm sure we can find a way to resolve matters to everyone's satisfaction.”

“But why do you want to make sure I'm free to attend the Ministry Christmas Ball?” Having to reduce his pace in order not to leave her behind was exasperating, but there was not much point in scowling at an empty hall.

“What do you think, Severus? Why don't you use that famous brain of yours and figure it out?” He didn't have to look down to deduce she was smiling.

“Presumably you think I should attend, despite my stated ambition to avoid dunderheads if at all possible. The reason escapes me, however.”

“Why don't you come into my sitting room? So much more comfortable to argue there, don't you think?” She performed whatever feat of advanced magic was required to gain access to the Headmistress' sitting room, and went straight for the Firewhisky.

“Fancy a drop?” It was the good stuff; she was clearly up to something.

Severus accepted. As he had no intention to be influenced, he may as well reap the benefits of being buttered up.

“You probably Incendio'd the invitation on sight, so you may not be aware the Ministry has introduced something called a 'plus one',” Minerva said after the first sip. “It means you can bring anyone you like.”

“I know what it means, Minerva. I'm fully au fait with contemporary Muggle culture. I can even use the Internet, unlike most of my fellow wizards.”

If Severus had been a different sort of teacher, he may have been introducing students to Muggle technology during special classes. In the same parallel universe, he would have spent his evenings singing in a choir before Apparating home to his eleven children to read fairy tales with the gory bits left out. The kind where the princess eschewed marrying the prince at the end and opened a garage instead.

The present version of reality may entail sleeping alone and occasional pining for intelligent company, but at least he still had his self-respect.

Aye, and that would keep him warm on a cold night, would it?

As usual, Minerva displayed an uncanny ability to tap into his thoughts. “If you keep doing what you've always done, you'll keep getting what you've always got. Perhaps it's time to unbend a little and see what life has to offer outside Hogwarts?”

“Are you suggesting I start at the biggest gathering of hangers-on and sycophants on the British Isles?”

“Why not? It's free, and you've already been invited. Most people have a more sanguine worldview and would actually be pleased to attend, so the lucky witch – or wizard – you ask would be likely to accept.” She reached for the bottle again, so he pretended to be thinking about it.

“You don't think a da- an assignation in front of what passes for the best and brightest of the Wizarding world would be a bit tense?”

She poured another two fingers for both of them. “I'm sure a man of the world like you could turn it into an opportunity.”

He drank most of the whisky.

It was still burning its way down his throat when she spoke again: “All right, then. Just go on your own instead – you may bump into someone there.”

“Too late. The invitation is probably fertilizing Longbottom's plants at the moment – isn't that where ashes ultimately end up?”

Minerva studied her stubby nails. “I took the liberty of sending an RSVP on your behalf.”

“What?”

“Well, if the man can't eject himself from the dungeon, then the world must come to him. You'll grow lichen if you spend more time down there!”

“I cannot conceive what led you to think it was acceptable to meddle in my affairs –“ Severus drew himself up taller to use his superior height to intimidate Minerva.

As usual, it was a futile effort.

Maybe he would have stood a chance if she hadn't known him since he had been an ill-favoured child. As it was, she pounced:

“The problem with you is that you don't have any bloody affairs! You don't even have a – a soupçon of a dalliance! Maybe you would unwind a bit if you got that stick up your arse removed and – “

Severus fled.

Minerva was far too good at extracting information from him if he remained to argue his case. He was hardly going to explain that it wasn't that he didn't want any affairs of the heart, but rather a case of wanting what he could not have.

His tastes were far too exacting – the witch he fancied would never settle for the likes of him.

The sort of witch, his treacherous brain added hurriedly. If he couldn't keep up in his own head, he wouldn't survive five minutes of probing from Minerva.

He retreated to the dungeons. Hopefully, the lichen would stay away until the morning.

* * *

“So what do you think we should do?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “You're the saviour of the Wizarding world, why don't you tell me?”

“You're the Slytherin,” Potter pointed out. “How's it going at Hogwarts, by the way?”

“We'll have to bring out the heavy artillery.”

Potter looked weary: “Which is?”

“My father.”

Potter sighed but didn't say anything.

Draco sighed, too. It was obvious why most plots to take over the world didn't involve Gryffindors – they would just sit around and wait for someone else to come up with ideas. “What about Granger, then? You're her best friend, surely you must know how to get around her?”

Looking marginally more cheerful, Potter finished his coffee. “I just might.”

Draco hoped so – he was damned if he was meeting in a Muggle coffee shop again. It was undignified. He had been forced to carry his cup of inferior coffee with his own hands, not even being able to levitate it.

This had better be worth it.

* * *

Neville stirred his tea, having appeared first as a disembodied head in the fireplace and then climbing out of the chimney in Hermione's apartment.

“I have a favour to ask. Could you bring my grandmother to the Ministry Christmas ball?” He sat down heavily, making the couch creak in protest.

“What, me? Why don't you ask Harry, he's definitely going?”

“Harry – Harry doesn't do well with aunts.” That was one way of putting it.

“She's your grandmother, though,” Hermione pointed out, in case they both had missed that. “Not your aunt.”

“He says she's like an aunt squared, whatever that means.”

Hermione sighed. “Ron, then?”

That earned her a glare from Neville, which was rather like being savaged by a sheep. “Did you see Ron last year? She's got bad knees, she's not doing the conga if I can help it!”

“Since when do you work weekends, by the way? I thought the heads of houses usually did Friday and Saturday night.”

“Apparently both Minerva and Severus are going, so I'm on duty. Oh, joy. The little buggers get really excited towards the end of term, too.”

“You sound like Sev – like Professor Snape!”

“Yeah, well, I can't pretend the prospect of handing out detentions fills me with joy, but I'm beginning to understand his insistence that students belong in bed at night. Their own, preferably.”

Looking around her tidy apartment, with everything in the right place and only Neville's red jumper clashed with the neutral colour scheme, she could sympathise.

“Fine, I'll take her. Do I need to bring her a bunch of flowers, or is my presence enough?”

“Thanks, Hermione. Just bring her home before she gets stuck into her second bottle of sherry, and you'll do fine.”

* * *

The fountain provided a pleasant background sound, almost muffling the occasional shrieks from the peacocks outside. The orangery was a new addition to Malfoy Manor. One had to do something with one's time, after all, and Lucius and Narcissa had remained at a cautious distance from society after the war.

No longer, apparently: Lucius had just announced it was time to return to the fold.

“I regard my re-appointment as Hogwarts governor as a sign certain events can now be consigned to history. While remembering the vital lessons learnt, of course.”

“Of course,” Severus mumbled.

He suspected the most vital lesson Lucius had learnt was to never again put a cause before family (and by extension, himself), rather than anything more elevated. The Malfoys possessing a healthy sense of self-preservation had served both the family and the Wizarding world well over the centuries, so one might hope it would keep Lucius from doing anything ill-considered.

“The Ministry Christmas ball appears to be an appropriate occasion to mark our return to public engagements.” Lucius clicked his fingers and an orange tree obediently contorted itself to shade them from the November sun. “One can never be too careful with one's complexion, Narcissa informs me.”

“I find living beneath a lake has done wonders for mine. Perhaps the next addition?”

Lucius frowned. “You don't advise it, then.”

“I was merely making a comment in passing.” Severus was not going to be dragged into advising anything. “I must admit I'm surprised you were invited this year – it must have been a sizeable donation.”

“Unfortunately that road is closed. Narcissa wants to economise.”

“Why?”

“Did you think she would tell me? She probably has some scheme for world domination.”

Severus briefly considered whether he should worry, given that Narcissa was about 100% more proficient as a conspirer than Lucius, before he recollected that she hadn't wanted to join Voldemort in the first place.

Someone had to be the sensible one (although it did not come with much distinction when the competition consisted of Lucius).

“I see. How will you attend then, if you are not actually invited?” he asked.

“One option is to bribe some of Draco's Auror colleagues. The trainees should be impecunious enough to only require a small outlay.”

“There is a flaw in your plan,” Severus pointed out. “Have you seen what goes on in the Auror section at the tables? Quaffing is the least of it.”

“I may flatter myself, but I think my name on the list of attendees will raise a few eyebrows. They will not want me too close to impressionable young Aurors. Nor Narcissa for that matter.”

“Who is the lucky boy, then?”

“You are. I decided it would be more convenient to be guaranteed a seat at the top table.”

* * *

A sudden noise from the orangery alarmed the peacocks, used to more refined utterances. However, being birds of limited intellect they soon returned to their carefree strutting, and peace reigned once more.

* * *

“Why now?”

“Hmm?” Lucius was still sulking about Severus not being delighted that his old friend commandeered his plus-one for the Ministry Christmas ball, and pretended not to be paying attention.

“Why are you suddenly so keen on attending? It didn't seem to bother you overly a few months ago.”

“Events, dear boy, events.”

Severus lifted one eyebrow. “Do enlighten me. I must be terribly behind the times.”

“Miss Granger.”

“Miss Hermione Granger? What about her?” It came out a little sharper than Severus had intended.

Lucius sat on the Hogwarts Board of Governors alongside Miss Granger. Severus attended occasionally in his capacity as Deputy Head, and while he had observed some spirited exchanges that were nothing compared to what had transpired between himself and his old student.

She had never suffered from a shortage of opinions, but he had flattered himself she appeared to particularly enjoy debating them with him. Unlike most of his former students, she had improved immeasurably with age.

“She recently split up with whatever Weasley she had shackled herself to. Unless I am much mistaken, the Wizarding world of tomorrow will be shaped by Miss Granger, so her next step is of considerable interest.”

“You think she will shack up with someone at her work Christmas do?”

“Don't be coarse, Severus. Besides, why not? I recently watched a most instructive Muggle production suggesting it's a common occurrence. The protagonist, Tim-nice-but-dim – one of life's Hufflepuffs, one feels – watches his ladylove throwing herself away on a mindless oaf. He finally grabs his chance with both hands at the staff Christmas celebration. Miss Granger, with such a brilliant future ahead, will surely have many admirers competing to be the first out of the starting blocks rather than one, but the principle stands.” Lucius sat back with a smug smile.

“I – You – May I remind you that it was I who introduced you to Muggle DVDs in general and The Office in particular? If that was what you took from it, it went far above your head!”

“Nevertheless, I believe it is sound as an illustration of common human behaviour. I thought the example would appeal to you.”

“Appeal to me.” Severus cast his eyes to the sky, hoping there was intelligent life out there somewhere because it was sorely lacking on earth.

Unfortunately, he had to exclude himself from that definition also, because he was going to give in and bring Lucius to the ball. He just wanted to – As always, there was a multitude of things he wanted, and in the great Venn diagram of life almost none of them overlapped with what he was going to get.

What he was going to have to settle for was watching Hermione choose between her many suitors, which was only superior to not watching her at all.

At least he would make Lucius pay for the privilege of squiring him to the ball.

* * *

Severus drew the line at appearing at the Ministry together. Fortunately, Lucius had proposed meeting there, so Severus Apparated dutifully at the appointed hour, after checking that the twelve cases of elf-made wine from Château de Malfoi had arrived. 

He may be open to bribes, but he was not cheap. 

“Lucius. How charming to see you return to your ancient haunts.” 

Lucius' smile was somewhat strained. “Not so ancient, I would say. Old, perhaps.” 

“Ah yes. No doubt that is the way it appears to a man of your years.” 

“Those seven years make a tremendous difference, I'm sure – Oh, there you are, darling!” 

Narcissa appeared on Draco's arm, resplendent in light blue. “Severus. How nice of you to accompany Lucius.”

“Naturally, I'm always anxious to oblige my elders.”

Sniping at Lucius kept him entertained until it was time to take their seats for the banquet, which was when he discovered he was to be seated between Granger and Augusta Longbottom. With Lucius on the other side of Mrs Longbottom, so at least Severus could be confident he wouldn't get up to any mischief.

One of the few benefits of spending one's professional life at Hogwarts was a diminished fear of formidable witches, by dint of much exposure. It did not necessarily make Minerva less intimidating when she was in a rage, but the everyday effect was reduced.

Lucius had no such advantage, in addition to a more chequered war record. One could barely tell he was there for the first course.

Naturally, Miss Granger suffered no restraint. “Professor Snape, how nice to see you. Or Severus, I should say.”

“Mi- Hermione.” The last time they had met had been in the Hogwarts library, golden autumn sunshine drawing broad stripes on the bookshelves. Her name had tripped off his tongue then as he tore into her views on defensive spells. In the brightly lit ballroom, she looked like a different woman: more polished, less real.

“I'm glad you haven't lost your natural loquaciousness.” The corners of her eyes crinkled the same way when she smiled – perhaps there wasn't much difference, after all.

The tables in the more distant corners of the ballroom grew rowdier as dinner progressed, but decorum reigned at the head table.

Severus didn't pay much attention to the delicate barbs flying around him – he may as well enjoy his good fortune and speak as much as possible to Hermione while he could.

He was reluctantly distracted from the debate on 16th-century charms when Mrs Longbottom's wand appeared square in his face, however.

There was no incantation, but the witch who had singlehandedly dispatched Selwyn to the great hereafter did not need one.

“What did you just do?” Severus asked with his teacher's voice, creating an ominous pool of silence around them.

“Oops,” Mrs Longbottom said. “Do excuse me. I just had a little wobble.”

Hermione's eyes narrowed. “I find that hard to believe. You were pointing your wand right at Severus. And at me, for that matter.”

“What spell was that?” Severus did not need to add he had ways of finding out – it was written large enough across his face that Mrs Longbottom wouldn't need her reading glasses to figure it out.

“One that reveals your heart's desire, and hers. I don't have all the time in the world, you know, and if I'd be long dead if I were to wait for you to get there on your own.”

Hermione turned pale. “What makes you think you know what my heart's desire is?”

“Merely observational skills, my dear. Admit it, it's the man next to you.”

Hermione nodded shakily as if she were trying to stop her head from moving. “It is,” she said through compressed lips, a scarlet wave now engulfing her head.

She did not look at Severus.

Mrs Longbottom did, however: “And you, young man?”

The answer sat on his tongue as readily as his own name: “Hermione, of course.”

“Truly?” Hermione asked, the scores of listening wizards forgotten.

“My heart's desire, truly.” He must be compelled by magic to put it in that saccharine manner, but it was true, nevertheless.

They stared at each other, lost in the moment until someone wolf-whistled from the corner where Magical Maintenance sat.

“Later,” Hermione said, a word brimming with promise.

“Later,” Severus nodded, desperately trying to recover his wits to survive until then. The question was, the question was... It was a bit too convenient, was what it was. Lucius had been suspiciously quiet, and as for Minerva who was if not bosom friends with Mrs Longbottom, then at least more than a passing acquaintance. 

“We have been set up!” he hissed. 

“I will kill Ron! And Neville,” Hermione added, to Mrs Longbottom's alarm. 

“You will leave my grandson out of this!”

Severus agreed: Lucius may have slinked off, sensing trouble, but the main culprit was right there. He raised his wand –

“You can't do that!” Hermione grasped his arm in a vice-like grip, surprising in someone who spent her working life pushing parchments. Then again, she had always been an overachiever.

“You think it will look bad?”

“Yes!”

“But I'm a war hero,” he tried. It usually worked.

She rolled her eyes. “In no possible universe does it look good to curse a centenarian at the Ministry Christmas ball, war hero or not. Put that wand down. We will have to come up with something else.”

If you can't beat them, join them and wreak havoc from within, Severus told his Slytherins. Perhaps he ought to take his own advice.

“Just follow my lead,” he whispered to Hermione.

* * *

At the far end of the table, beneath a particularly garish garland clashing violently with Weasley's hair, there was much excitement.

“They’re kissing – it worked! We are geniouseses – genie – very clever!” Potter had drunk far too many Firewhisky cocktails, not to mention the several empty pint glasses surrounding his plate.

“Gryffindors were never very good at nuance, are you?” Draco asked, clicking his fingers to summon another glass of mulled wine. He could feel a cold coming on, or perhaps it was a premonition.

“You think they know what we've been up to?” Weasley was surprisingly quick on the uptake, especially considering his drink intake. He could have emptied a small pub.

“What do you think?” Draco asked pointedly as Granger and Severus disappeared in a puff of smoke.

“I think we should make the most of the next two hours and then start running,” Weasley said, taking a bottle of Firewhisky from the tray of a passing house-elf. “Care for something stronger?”

Draco nodded.

He hoped Granger would keep Severus at bay long enough to buy them some time. If they were stuck for something to talk about, they could always discuss how to exact revenge on their meddling friends.

“Keep pouring, Weasley. We don't have all night.”

* * *

“'Let me take you away from all this?'” she quoted, laughter in her voice. “To the Hog's Head?”

Severus had not spent a lot of time pondering their destination in his rush to get out of there. Kissing Hermione Granger on front of hundreds of witnesses was so far out of his comfort zone he was still a bit dizzy.

“There will be far fewer dunderheads here than at the ball,” was the best he could come up with. What the hell did people do next, once they got this far?

“I don't think Aberforth does any Firewhisky cocktails.” Hermione studied the dusty bottles behind the bar. “Maybe I'll go for a gin and tonic. Or – may the drinks can wait. Let's hang our cloaks up.”

Severus only recovered his wits sufficiently to remember they hadn't been wearing any cloaks by the time they reached the cloakroom. Or rather, the alcove where customers left coats they didn't have any particular attachment to. .

Hermione made sure he was standing with his back to the wall and arched one eyebrow at him. All brain activity promptly ceased.

He didn't even know she could do that.

“I didn't know you could do that.” Was that his voice?

“I can do lots of things.” There was a dangerous smile on her lips and Severus did the only thing he could think of.

Kissing her turned out to be absolutely, unequivocally the right thing to do. For once in his life.

* * *

“Pay up, Narcissa. You thought they'd come back – it's far too late now.” Lucius was rather deep into the whisky. 

She surrendered in good grace, mindful of the far larger sum she had pocketed from the Headmistress when Severus actually kissed the Granger chit in front of everyone. 

If she could achieve that with a few bets and a little help from Draco, what else could she do?

**THE END**


End file.
